


In Teeth

by colberry



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Bromance, Childhood Friends, Cigarettes, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Eventual Smut, M/M, Platonic Kissing, Reita's Life is Shenanigans, Shotgunning, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colberry/pseuds/colberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reita might be slightly desperate.  And obsessed.  But with Uruha prancing around in nude tulle, Kai being absolutely useless, Aoi rocking out when he isn't being an idolized enigma on campus and some guy with multicolored dreadlocks showing up wherever he goes, well... he has his hands full.  If there's one thing he'll learn this semester, no one is who they seem to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Irony

_He was everything and nothing.  The starlight at the tip of your tongue and the black hole at your chest.  He made a fire burn at your ribs, gulping up cinders because you felt like the air around was nothing but spark – reaction, re-reaction – until you begin to cough and sputter.  He’s too much – lighter fluid on your cerebellum.  But dammit, you love to feel the burn sear across your flesh._

Dreadlocks in pastel reds, yellows, browns – cuff links wrapping around thin wrists and a gilded cigarette dangling from pouty lips – he was the antithesis to Reita’s humdrum monotony.  He didn’t know his name, merely knew that the scent of starlit confessions would puff from those lips and eerie amber contacts would stare down those who told him to _preserve those lungs so you can breathe_.

He carried around music sheets.  Scribbled notes on the backs of his hands.  Painted his nails black and blue.  Wore vests inside out and inked a layer of graffiti over his shoes.  Reita couldn’t help but notice – couldn’t help but look on in awe whenever he would spot the boy smoking an aureate cigarette behind the Anthropology building, or sprawled across the grass near the Quad, or burying his nose in pages upon pages of sheet music. 

Reita – dull, one-friend-man, bleached-his-hair-because-he-was-sick-of-normal, always carried mace and a million and a half supply of rubber bands – was inherently fascinated by him.  His first days of campus life were a blur.  Roommate from high school, plastic container food, droning professors.  Nothing was as clear, focused and _bright_ as when he spotted the not-so-ordinary boy settled against a random wall that was tangled in ivy.  He had been smoking; his hands had been gripping the cigarette as if Apocalypse was breaking apart the sky.  And something snapped into place within Reita’s chest.

It wasn’t stalking, necessarily.  Just prolonged observing.  A little peek here and there.  Harmless scoping and following. 

“You’re pretty much obsessed then.”  Uruha didn’t seem to agree with him.

Reita scoffed, clicking away on the internet in search of how to read music notes, “No I’m not.  He’s just interesting.  That’s all.”

Uruha let out a breathy laugh, rolling onto his back on his bed, observing Reita’s attempts of navigating Wikipedia from an upside-down world, “You’ve been following this guy’s ass since the second week of school.  I don’t which is more pathetic.  You for panting after him or the guy for not noticing yet and getting a restraining order.”

Reita rolled his eyes, “How am I obsessing?  It’s not like I have his whole day mapped out and I tag behind him at every turn.”

“No,” Uruha let an arm drift to his hair, tangling his fingers in the auburn locks, “But you’re looking up how to write sheet music, where to buy fucking 'Black Devil' cigarettes and researching where to get X JAPAN tickets -- Mr. Heaven-Forbid-I-Go-Out-On-A-Sunday -- for god-knows-what reason.”

The elder frowned, almost a pout but Reita didn’t pout so it was definitely a frown, “So?”

“ _So._   You’re either obsessing on a creepy-level.  Or you’re crushing on a creepy-level.”

“So, either way you’re going to give me shit?”

“Sounds about right to me.”

“Fucker.”

Uruha smiled lazily, twisting around to flop on his stomach yet again, hair sufficiently mussed, “Love you too.”

Ever since the tender age of ten, Reita and Uruha had been invading each others' lives.  It started with a soccer ball, a case of mistaken identity and a black eye.  But somehow, a bond was formed over ice-packs and wounded pride, and they had been inseparable ever since.  Uruha was the one Reita had confided to when his dad left.  Reita was the one Uruha chose to come out to first.  It was a whisper on a rainy afternoon when they had put the video games on pause to munch on some popcorn and talk about nothing in particular.  It was soft and so quickly spoken that Reita hadn’t heard the confession the first time around.

It was only after Uruha met his questioning gaze with wet eyes and a fearful visage, whispering those two words again with trepidation, did he truly understand.  So he had embraced him, hugged his friend so tight that he could feel those sharp shoulder blades dig into his palms.  And he had whispered right back that _he didn’t care, he loved him anyway, he would never leave_.   

And after that, well…  It was back to soccer balls, black eyes and a lot more mistaken identity.  Because after the initial confession to the person he had cared about most, Uruha had no qualms about wearing eyeliner, dabbling in eyeshadow and wearing skirts with tights that would put any two-cent runway fashionista to shame.  Donning a particularly convincing outfit one night to meet his bleach-haired friend at a live house,  The Night That Shall Not Be Mentioned was born.  And won’t be Mentioned.  Except for the fact that it involved groping and the words:  _“Handle with care, Rei-chan.”_

So now, arching his back at a hunchback-angle, looking up inane things that may or may not have to do with a certain enigma with dreads, and Uruha rolling around on the bed making snarky comments – it was a normal Wednesday afternoon. 

“And by the way, could you _not_ wear that when you-know-who stops by later?”

Uruha pouted and looked down at himself.  Nothing seemed to be too out of the ordinary.  Black wife-beater, velvet blazer, lace skirt, black tights – oh.  “I thought it didn’t bother you?”

Reita kept on clicking sporadically around the site he’d found, slowly growing frustrated that he wasn’t absorbing anything about notes, measures and other weird squiggly stuff, “It doesn’t.  But you-know-who might be a little less accepting.”

“You might know-who, but I have no fucking clue who you-know-who-but-I-don’t-know-who is.”

What the hell?  _Those_ were guitar notes?  They were letters!  “We’ve been over this.  Daily.  Shiroyama’s coming over.”

Uruha sat up, a look of mock-shock pasted on his face, “You’re cheating on gold-cigarette-man?  _Already?_ ”

Reita whipped his head around, glaring hard, “Excuse me but not every male-fascination has to be driven by pervertedness.  And you know I’m straight.  Another thing we’ve gone over.  Daily.”

The taller of the two hummed noncommittally, mind already passed the matter of Reita’s flimsy sexuality and barging forward to new, more pressing issues, “Why are you calling him you-know-who?  Is this some top-secret liaison you guys are doing?”

Tapping his foot impatiently as a website declaring all the wondrous worlds of frets was loading at the pace of a broken-footed snail, the elder spared his roommate a quick glance, “He’s you-know-who because you _should_ know who I’m talking about since I’ve planned for him to stop by for like four days now.  And I _told_ you he’s coming to help me with that stupid Sociology proposal.”

“Oh.  Then it has nothing to do with the fact that Shiroyama knows how to play guitar and _therefore_ knows how to read sheet music and could _totally_ help you out in wooing goldy-dreadlock-man?”

Reita paused, swirling around in his desk chair, page still irritatingly lagging, and gave Uruha a bemused look, “Absolutely.  Nothing.  To do with that.  Now change.”

Uruha only grinned wider – a true Cheshire with its cream – and swung his black-tight-clad legs over the side of his bed with amusement, “I don’t know, Reita.  I’m sure Aoi would appreciate a show.”

“I'm not letting you scare him off.  And don’t call him Aoi.  That’s his stage name and I don’t want you coming off as some desperate groupie.  This whole thing is embarrassing enough as it is.” 

Rising from the bed with a stretch, Uruha traipsed over to the minuscule closet that housed basically the whole life of the standard college student and began to rummage through it.  Running his hands over the many fabrics, Uruha sighed, “Sorry for being an embarrassment.”

Reita bit back a groan, taking his eyes off the computer screen to gaze at his friend.  The skirt actually fit quite nice, draping along Uruha’s thighs and blending almost seamlessly with the black tights.  Like hell he would admit that to the other though.  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Grabbing the lonely pair of jeans sitting on his top shelf, Uruha waved an unoccupied hand at the growing frustration of his friend, “Whatever.  I’ll make nice.”

He proceeded to shuck off his skirt.

With a strangled sound, Reita whipped back to face his screen, cheeks aglow with crimson.  “Fuck!  Way to be modest…”

Uruha hummed again, not granting the flailing man a response and only smirked. 

It was two o’clock in the afternoon – and it felt like icicles were burrowing into both their bones as winter seemed to come drastically early.  Illegal space-heater aside, warmth was nowhere to be found on campus unless it was with a companion.  With this in mind, Reita wondered how Uruha could even stand to wear anything less than an Eskimo suit.  As for himself, he was garbed in an array of layered wife-beaters and long-sleeve sweaters of interesting color choices.  Red and purple matched, right? 

“Okay, you girl.  You can look now.” 

Reita snorted, sifting through haphazard papers with his chicken scratch marring every inch of surface, “That’s ironic coming from you…”

A sharp knock sounded on their door, causing Reita to immediately jump and start to exit out all the windows having to do with becoming a musical mastermind and purchasing legit gold cigarettes.  Uruha, dressed considerably more conservative in dark wash jeans and a oddly striped shirt, only smirked wider at his friend’s obvious peril.  The bleach-blond ran a hand through his hair in trepidation, taking a breath to calm his nerves and shot Uruha a glance as he walked towards the door.

All traces of femininity – except for the perfectly blown-out hair and slight sweeps of eyeliner outlining his caramel irises – were swept away as Uruha stood there with his arms crossed, broad shoulders and tall stature radiating _man_ despite his penchant for things of a more frilly nature.  Reita sighed in relief, uttering one last murmur to his friend, “Try not to scare him away, okay?”

Uruha rolled his eyes and retreated to his bed once more.  It was useless to try and reason with Reita when he got so insecure of his surroundings like this.  Grabbing a geography textbook filled with cobwebs and something about continents, the blond cracked it open to a random page and muttered, “Playing  nice, remember?”

Reita ran a hand down his face before opening the door with a too-wide smile plastered against his cheeks, “Shiroyama-san!  Thanks so much for this, really.”

The man in the doorway smiled softly, “Ah, it’s no problem.”

Stepping inside and proceeding to remove his Chuck Taylors, Uruha immediately took the opportunity to transfix on the little-known Shiroyama-san.  Long black locks, full mouth, glinting lip ring, soft eyes.  He was slim, but not in the way Uruha was, bordering malnourishment.  And his hands.  Slightly gnarled, strong, callused – undoubtedly a guitar player.  The tall blond peered out of the highlighted pages of his textbook, eyes instinctively hooding and lips pursed. 

Reita took that lull in time as Yuu got out of his coat to look over at his roommate.  Noting the hooded gaze that was slowly gaining a come-hither glint, he cleared his throat loudly.  Uruha immediately straightened up with wide eyes, _Who me?_

Reita glared.  _Yes, you._

“So, what exactly did you need help with Reita-kun?”

Reita snapped back to Yuu, plastic smile back on his face, “Ah, well just help getting started on that proposal, you know?”

Yuu nodded, tucking a stray bang behind his ear, peering around the room curiously – eyes inevitably landing on Uruha occupying the bed.  “Oh, hi.  Didn’t see you there.”

Before Uruha could utter a word, Reita nervously laughed, grabbed Yuu’s elbow and directed him towards his desk, “Oh, don’t mind him.  He’s just studying.  Lots of studying to do for that huge test, right Uru?  _Lots_ studying.  _Loads of it._ ”

With a roll of eyes and a huff, Uruha buried his face into his book and internally groaned.  Reita was crap at subtlety.  To Yuu’s credit, he only nodded in sympathy and started to walk towards the other’s desk that was serving as Star Commander for this meeting.  Satisfied that he diverted a potential disaster from happening, Reita turned his back to both and started to rifle through his papers. 

“Oh -!  Sorry, I stepped on your…  Skirt?”

_Motherfuck.  Fucking motherfucking Uruha, I swear to sweet Jesus --_   “Oh, um – don’t worry about it.  It’s just my girlfriend’s.”

Reita didn’t want to turn around fully to see the equally murderous and horror-stricken look looming on Uruha’s face – the fact that his skirt was being demoted to imaginary-girlfriend status and the fact that it was being trampled on.  “She really shouldn’t be leaving her stuff around like that.  I’m going to have to talk to her about that.”

Subtlety, subtlety.

Yuu chuckled, handing the skirt to Reita, “Ha, I know how it is.” 

It was coming at him.  That frilly specimen that had been hugging Uruha’s ass mere seconds ago was heading right for him and Reita had to handle it lest he look weird and awkward.  More so than he already was, of course.  _Just pretend it’s really your girlfriend’s. **What girlfriend?** Your really hot one, dumbass, now take the damn skirt!_

He touched it.  He burrowed his fingers deep into the fabric and could feel the blush warming his cheeks to his toes.  Reita pretended not to hear Uruha’s strange, strangled sound of laughter-gasp-of-horror escape his throat as his fingers connected.  He would smother him with it later.

Quickly opening a random drawer and stuffing it inside among the plethora of pencils, scraps of paper and tape, Reita attempted to put his brain back together, “So!  That proposal.  What a doozy’.”

Yuu settled in the proffered chair and gingerly touched the papers Reita presented to him, “Yeah, that professor’s definitely a stickler for contemporary theory.  Have you thought about what you want to do at all?”

Uruha yawned, not really knowing why he was still in the room and had to _change_ for that matter if all he was doing was just sitting there pretending not to eavesdrop.  But there wasn’t even anything worth eavesdropping on…

“Well, I was thinking about counterculture.”

“Ah, well you should really get Ruki to help you with this.  He’s like – the utter definition of counterculture,” Yuu broke off in a goodhearted laugh.   

Uruha closed his eyes, letting the man’s high timbre wash over him.  Fuck, it was too long since his last semi-sorta-not-really-more-like-a-three-nightstand relationship.  He shifted his legs.  Besides knowing Yuu – Aoi – played in a band, there really wasn’t much else he could gather from the guy.  Sort of an enigma, an untouched deity, on campus.  Pretty quiet, but definitely a presence.

“Ruki?”

Yuu nodded, “You would know who I’m talking about.  Avant-garde.  Thick frames.  Dreadlocks.  Smokes like a chimney?”

Uruha perked up just as Reita started to choke on air.  Oh, well this was interesting.

“R-Ruki?  That’s his name?”  Reita tried to tone down the fan-boy lilt to his voice that was steadily becoming just as high as Yuu’s normal tone.  Again, to Yuu’s credit, who probably had seen and heard weirder, just tilted his lips into a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, more or less.  Not surprised you don’t know it.  He tries to keep a low profile.”

“He’s doing a great job of that with his Midas-touch cigarettes and mound of mountain-hair.”

Reita gritted his teeth and glared at Uruha who had his eyes on Yuu.  The elder man chuckled good-naturedly, not noticing the auburn-haired sweeping his gaze to his lips and chest, “That’s what I keep telling him, but I don’t blame the cigarette choice.  Tastes like chocolate.”

Ah.  So Yuu shared cigarettes – _lip-to-lip contact_ cigarettes – with another man.  There could be hope in his quest to ravish this delectable specimen of the male physique. 

Reita seemed to think that as well, quickly trying to capture Yuu’s attention once more, “Wait, so you think he’d help me?”

Yuu tore his eyes from Uruha, giving Reita a less-than-hopeful expression, “Can’t guarantee anything.  But at least you have a topic.  I wish I could stay a bit longer, but I’m already late for my date tonight.  Almost clawed my eyes out the last time so…”

Reita nodded, watching Yuu write a quick outline of questions for him to delve into with his topic and sneaking a peek at Uruha who seemed a little deflated at the news of a nameless girl stealing away his knight. 

“See you later.  And nice meeting you by the way!”

Yuu waved amiably as he stepped out the door.  Uruha returned it with a little less enthusiasm, quickly groaning once the door shut.  He flopped onto his back and dug the heels of his palms into his sockets, “He didn’t even ask for my _name!”_

“Don’t take it personally,” Reita assured his friend who was currently stewing in a pile of self-pity, “It took two weeks before he finally asked for mine.  I think he’s just absent-minded.”

Uruha stuck out an arm and swiped the unused textbook off the bed, “But I played nice!  I didn’t do anything.”

Reita sighed, putting the proposal away and walking over to sit next to Uruha, who was still on his back with self-loathe.  Right when Uruha felt the tell-tale sinking of his mattress, he quickly angled his body towards the elder, thigh rubbing against him and arms encircling the surprisingly narrow waist.  Uruha buried his head into Reita’s side, exhaling loudly and trying not to feel a pang in his heart when his friend tensed slightly.

He hadn’t meant to of course, but the feel of Uruha’s lips against the fabric of his shirt was unsettling.  They were just like a girl’s – soft, bowed, pursed and gentle.  All those years together, it wasn’t like he could say that he didn’t feel _something._   That little flicker of warmth deep in chest; that little jerk of his heart when the taller would don skirts and playfully slide his leg against his.  Because  it made him blush, made him flustered. 

But he wasn’t about to admit any of that and squash the “manly man of man-ness” persona he (wished he) emanated.  Rather, he pushed those awkward, wiggly feelings into the way back of his conscious and merely kept his hands to himself.  No matter how tantalizing it was to just touch, _touch_.

Uruha leaned in closer, a sigh escaping him and his arms wounded around Reita’s smallish waist a little tighter.  Reita was _safe_.  “I’m always the odd one out.  Even when I’m “fitting in” and wearing regular stuff, doing regular things like “studying”.  It’s not him.  Anybody.  It’s me.”

“Cut the sap.”  Reita pulled apart the arms around him and held onto his friend’s shoulders, trying to catch his eye, “Stop being sad and be ‘Uruha’ please.  One guy doesn’t _ever_ stop you, so why now?”

Uruha tried to smile – it came off meek and more of a grimace – and shifted his body, bending his knee so it partially rested on Reita’s thigh, “Sometimes I’m just ‘Kouyou’.  Insecure, little Kouyou.”

The blond-haired college freshman watched the emotion curl and coil in Uruha’s caramel eyes.  He almost reached out to _touch_ , but he felt himself smirk instead, “Guess that makes me ‘Akira’ then.  Now get your damn knee off me.”

Uruha’s eyes immediately shone with mischief, “But I’m a damsel in distress.  The _manly hero_ is supposed to comfort his damsel.”

“You’re not mine.  And I _know_ you’re wearing those damn tights under those pants.  Now get your skirt out of my drawer while I do this paper.”

 Uruha rose an eyebrow, leaning back a tad, “Reita?  Doing a paper?  This is news.”

 Reita stood up, letting Uruha’s body slide off his and proudly putting his hands on his hips (not letting Uruha’s snickers of _diva_ deter him), “That’s right.  And ‘Ruki’ better prepare himself.”

 “Oh!  So you’re taking my advice and jumping him?  I personally think sneak-attacks are romantic – especially after weeks of stalking.”

 “ _No._ ”

 Reita smiled then.  A devious sort of smile that made Uruha stop giggling and start nibbling on his bottom lip with slight concern.  For Ruki’s well-being or Reita’s sanity?  He wasn’t too positive.  But his oldest friend kept grinning from ear to ear, pressing his palms together and declaring:

 “He’s my thesis.”

 And the mood would have been perfectly set to impending doom just like Reita planned, if not for Uruha’s snide remark, “You must be _dying_ to _develop_ him.”

 “…Fucker.”


	2. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You didn't tell me we were having company! I would've put on something more appropriate than this monstrosity!"   
> Reita ran a hand down his face while Kai happily got comfortable on his bed, "I'm pretty sure what you deem 'appropriate' would have involved a tube-top or something -- so really, it's a blessing."

It was easier said than done.    
  
It wasn’t like Reita could just – as Uruha so eloquently put – “jump the guy’s bones from behind a brick wall, steal his cigarette and ride off into the sunset using his dreads as the reins” …and declare him as the topic of his paper.  First off, it was bound to become mucked up somehow.  Reita was a glorious example of completely-normal-situations-gone-gauche.

  It was a family trait.  It was the only explanation he could come up with as he watched his entire genetic makeup blush deep red and cause uncomfortable conditions for everyone involved in the most unsuspecting places. 

 

This is why Reita doesn’t go to the grocery store anymore.

But that’s a different story entirely.

Second off, there was no suave way of saying, “Hey, you don’t know me, but I’ve been watching you for some time and I’ve deemed you worthy of being the topic of my Sociology term paper.  Prepare to be researched.”

Well, he _could_ just say that.  But he’d rather keep his face blood-free.

Uruha had attempted to provide him with diabolical plans to confront the eccentric and somewhat otherworldly student about his predicament.  However, all of them fell through once Reita realized they all had to do with getting naked in increasingly fascinating ways.  The college freshman sighed, hands buried deep into his coat pockets as he walked aimlessly around campus.  The air was crisp and started to coat his lungs with frost; he tried to nuzzle his chin more into his orange scarf, eyes cast to the ground. 

He didn’t know why he was so enthralled, enraptured almost, by ‘Ruki’.  Reita had always been a curious person, but never one to step outside himself and fully commit to discovering the intrinsic characteristics of one human being.  Even though Uruha begged to differ -- and proclaimed quite loudly in the dining halls -- Reita wasn’t interested in men.  For all the weird, uncanny feelings that were sometimes stirred up by his best friend, never once had he ever fantasized about doing _anything_ with him.

Besides, Uruha looked like a coquettish femme more than a broad-shouldered man six out of seven days a week.  His mind had been muddled with the presence of eyeshadow, rouge and stilettos on Uruha’s willow-like physique to the point where it no longer mattered _who_ was wearing it.  They just looked _good_.

But Ruki was different.  That much was clear.  The entire Milky Way seemed to paint itself across his entity – something about the way he held that cigarette, the way he walked with his shoulders stooped, the way he leaned his head against brick walls…  It was a shock of _color_ and _vibrancy_ in a world that was slowly fading to winter grays.  Despite the seemingly unassuming nature the man presented himself in, Reita knew he was insane.  Because Reita was insane, and Uruha was insane, and he always attracted insanity like a magnet.

But it was a glorious insanity.  One where chaos was licking your spine and drowning inside your veins.  He knew Ruki was utterly _crazy_.  He had to be.  Not because of his hairstyle or neon cigarettes or the messenger bag he carried that was pricked with three thousand buttons that declared everything from RAGE to X JAPAN to RX.  It was the distinctive glaze to his eyes that Reita never knew the true color of.  They were always changing – shocking emerald to warm gold, blatant red to soft blue.  He was contradiction and space-time-continuum maladies and a _mistake_. 

But fuck, Reita needed to make a mistake.

And someone up there must have heard him because in the next two point five seconds, he literally ran into him.  Sociology textbook, midterm proposal and cell phone clattering to the ground, a surprised rush of air escaping his lungs when his palms skid across pavement.

The sting in his hands pulsed loudly.  Fuck.  So much for first impressions.

“Sorry about that,” Reita mumbled, slowly rising and cautiously looking up to see Ruki’s quizzical expression.  A cigarette was hanging lazily from his mouth, silver ringed fingers twitching slightly from the cold and his eyes a delicate mahogany color rimmed by aureate.  The shorter man shrugged, starting to bend down to retrieve the music sheets he had dropped in the brief skirmish.  Reita, not wanting to be cast aside so quickly for his clumsiness, quickly snatched up the papers before those black-painted nails could skim their surface. 

He stole a glance at them, intrigued beyond belief at what Ruki had been working and gazing upon all this time, but was promptly deterred as Ruki snatched them back with a furrowed brow.

But Reita’s eyes were wide, mouth slightly parted.  He was sure he saw Ruki with those same papers for over two weeks now, constantly staring unto them, mouthing words and tracing a finger line by line.  He was absolutely positive, but –

“Don’t touch things you’ll never understand, Suzuki.”

Startled, Reita met his eyes once more, the other’s glare brimming with contempt and burning those mahogany-gold contacts with its fire.  They were so close now, hot breaths fanning on his lips – so close that Reita could spot the light dusting of navy shadow upon the other’s lids.  He exhaled, time stopping and then revving up just as quickly.  Ruki roughly brushed past him and into the depths of the bitter cold afternoon.

And Reita continued to stand there, frozen to the spot.  The crash and burn had transpired without more than three words from his mouth.  Something – perhaps the sickening curl of unease – was settling into his stomach and making his chest feel heavy. 

There was no way Ruki could have known his name – let alone his _last_ name.

And those music sheets – the ones he had been pouring over for weeks, staring at intently, seen with every moment Reita spotted him…

They were completely and utterly blank. 

-.-.-.-

“What do you _mean_ you’ve never seen him?!”

Kai met Reita’s frantic countenance with an easy, calm smile, “Just that.  I’ve never seen anyone around campus with dreadlocks before.  I think I would have remembered.”

The professor at his lectern didn’t seem to notice, or mind, that two of his students in the very last row of the lecture hall were whispering albeit a tad suspiciously.  Even if he did, Reita couldn’t help that he _had_ to talk to Kai about this – Geology could wait.  Kai was sensible, all-knowing, wise and an all around rock of support.  He was bound to know something about this inscrutable man who seemed to know a little bit more about Reita – or should he say, _Suzuki_ – than anyone knew about what flavor his cigarettes were.

But it seemed that Kai was…

“Useless.  Absolutely useless.”  Reita sank low into his seat, feet accidentally kicking the heels of the person in front of him who was furiously taking notes. 

Kai’s smile faltered.  “Sorry, Reita.  I swear if I saw anybody like that, I’d tell you.”

Reita shook his head, eyes wide and disbelieving, “Every damn person I’ve talked to, Kai.  _No one_ knows or has _seen_ him.  It’s like he doesn’t even exist,”  He tapped his pencil urgently on his desk.  Kai watched him hesitantly, not sure what the hell was going on since he was merely sitting here innocently before the blonde and frantic tornado hit him at full force with an army full of questions. 

He met both Reita and Uruha at a concert the college had hosted during its orientation slash welcome week.  He had been attracted by their warm auras and equally out of the box personalities that only added fuel to his smile and laughter.  Kai could still remember the look of utter mortification on Reita’s face as he and Uruha began to discuss the genius of Heidi Klum – and he still chuckles whenever he brings up that mental image of the man burying his face in his hands and groaning, _“Now there’s **two** of them.  God help me, fuck.”_  

Of course, he assured the nerve-torn man that he wasn’t like _that_ – he was straight, if not slightly metrosexual.  Uruha had pouted playfully and challenged, _“Prove it.”_

And despite having a steady girlfriend around his arm ever since that day, he was still “proving” it to Uruha that he was indeed in the throes of the female kind. 

Reita broke his pencil tapping pattern to pause and frown deeply, “I mean, it’s not like he’s just your run of the mill guy who tries to be all ‘hipster’ and wears beanies and Chuck Taylors.  He has multicolored _dreads_ for fuck’s sake.  His clothes are _what the fuck_ and he smokes 14 karat gold cigarettes.  He’s _everywhere_.”

Kai looked on as Reita sunk even deeper into his seat, “Why doesn’t anyone see him?”

A lull pervaded the conversation.  Only the soft drone of the professor pierced the silence between the two before Kai perked up, “Didn’t you say Yuu knew him?”

That’s right.  Yuu _did_ know him.  He knew him enough to converse with him regularly and swap cigarettes.  Reita nodded, a smile breaking out onto his face and punched Kai lightly in the shoulder, “Fuck, Kai.  I knew I came to you for a reason.”

The brunet grinned, eyes light with mirth, “Well, I’m the only sane one here so it’s only natural, I suppose.”

Reita wasn’t about to deny that and continued to make half baked plans.  He needed to get a hold of Yuu again.  It would be hard.  It was unexpectedly difficult to get him to come over – he had been asking for days before the man finally conceded, and even then he stayed for less than ten minutes.  It was… peculiar.  And it was _also_ peculiar that he and Yuu were the only ones who seemed to know of ‘Ruki’s existence.

Speaking of existences, “But what I don’t get it how he knows my name – my _last_ name.”

“Maybe Yuu told him?”

Reita shook his head, brows knitted and putting his chin in his palm, “No, I only told him my first name.  And the name I go by with everyone isn’t even my real name.  Uruha’s the only one that knows it.”

Kai sighed and leaned back in his chair, popping his spine as he stretched, “Maybe Uruha told him, if he’s the only one that knows your ‘true identity’,” He said the last words with a deviant smirk.

Rolling his eyes, the bleach haired man shook his head, “Uruha doesn’t even know Ruki.  He’s only heard about him through me and even if he _did_ run into him, I’d like to think he wouldn’t be blabbing my personal shit to random ass strangers.”

There was a sudden abundance of shuffling, creaking seats and humming voices.  Ah, lecture was over.  Reita stood up and swung his backpack onto his right shoulder.  Kai followed suit and trailed after him from the room.  The bright sun was a farce – each boy shivered instinctively as the biting cold hit their cheeks, hands and noses.  Tightening their coats and scarves, they made their way to the Mother Ship – in other words, Reita’s dorm.

“You think Uruha is back from calligraphy yet?”

Reita’s low baritone was exasperated, “Not if he ran into that new kid, Hiroto.”

“Ah, Ogata-kun?”

“Yeah, he just transferred over.  Uruha says he’s the epitome of ‘adorable’ and decided to make him his new project.  From what I gather though, the kid is as shy as anything – he’s a year younger than us.  Graduated from high school early or some shit like that.”

Kai kicked a stray pebble out of their path, “So, he’s smart then?”

Reita shrugged with as much enthusiasm one could extract from him with the topic of ‘brains’ and ‘GPAs’.  They continued to walk up the totally unnecessary hills and wonky paths that had a brick or two jutting out.  Reita was always paranoid that one day he’d brain himself on said bricks. 

Breathing out a fog of air, he turned to the man beside him casually, “Why do you ask anyways?”

“No reason.  I just haven’t seen Uruha in awhile.  I mean, ever since that night at Kaoru’s.”

Reita winced, “Yeah, I wouldn’t bring that up just yet.  He’s fine now, for the most part.  But he _has_ been wearing more… _outfits_ lately.”

Kai raised an eyebrow, “Doesn’t he always?”

Fuck, his fingers were frozen.  “Yeah, but it’s different somehow.  I just think that night really jarred him.”

“Wouldn’t that make him want to _stop_ wearing skirts and stuff?”

“Yeah, in public.  But whenever I’m around – _bam_.  Skirt and frills time.”

Proudly majoring in psychology, Kai nodded emphatically, “Well, that makes sense, I guess.  You’re his ‘safe’ zone.  He knows you won’t judge him.”

Reita had to agree to that.  But Kai didn’t have to know about the sometimes-there feelings of desire lurking in his chest whenever he saw Uruha splayed out across his bed – stilettos hanging on the bedpost and smoking a cigarette whilst blowing his handheld fan to keep the detectors from going off.  Again.  He didn’t need Kai to swoop in with a detailed analysis of how he somehow had issues with his mother from the fact that the sight of his best male friend experimenting with lipstick in their shared mirror was a little, little bit alluring.  He didn’t have mommy issues.  And he didn’t want Uruha.  No.

Trudging up the stairs to his room, Reita grumbled, “It’d help if he just toned it down a _tad_.”

Kai tilted his head to the left, emanating the endearing (and sickening, in Reita’s opinion) image of a puzzled puppy, “Surely it’s not too bad, right?”

Reita twisted the knob to the dorm, surprised to find it unlocked and proceeded to open it.  He was about to reply in the affirmative to Kai when –

“Fuck, Reita.  The guy totally trampled on my shit.  I mean, it’s going to take me forever to iron out these fucking wrinkles.  He could have _torn_ the fabric.  I spent my meal plan money on this!  I should just have you pay me in damage fees.  Fuck.”

It would have been more of a fearsome rant if not for the pleasantly domestic scene of Uruha on his hands and knees on the floor with the table ironing board, rearranging the black skirt and fussing over the fact that the iron had a bajillion and one settings on it.  Obviously a laundry day, he was dressed in an oversized sweatshirt that screamed SEX PISTOLS and a pair of leggings. 

Reita quickly blocked the doorway and Kai’s vision into the room.  “You know what?  You’re place has Cheetos.  I need Cheetos.”

Kai rolled his eyes and pushed past him, “Hey, Uruha.”

The auburn-haired man snapped his head up from his manly task of fanning out pleats to regard Kai with wide eyes.  He immediately squawked, hands coming up to grip his hair in frustration and turned a glare to Reita.

“You didn’t tell me we were having company!  I would’ve put on something more appropriate than this fucking monstrosity!”

Reita ran a hand down his face while Kai happily got comfortable on his bed, “I’m pretty sure what you deem ‘appropriate’ would’ve involved a tube top or something, so really it’s a blessing.”

Uruha narrowed his eyes at his roommate before turning a sheepish look towards Kai, “Sorry.”

Kai waved him off good-naturedly, kicking his legs back and forth as he rubbed his hands against Reita’s quilt to warm them up, “Please, you’re fine.  It’s nice to see you au natural.”

Uruha’s eyes were still unsure even though he gave Kai a half-smile in thanks.  Returning to his work, he amiably switched topics, “So, Rei-chan.  See your knight in shining gold cigarettes today?”

“I think you used that line already.”

“Give me a break.  All you’ve told me about him is dreadlocks and cigarettes.  You suck at imagery.”   

Reita collapsed into his desk chair, briefly flailing since he wasn’t used to the rocking chair feature of it and fleetingly thought he was going to die a horrible, pathetic death, but immediately recovered.  Kai pretended not to see.  Uruha didn’t and snorted, ironing out his fifth pleat.

Finally stabilized, Reita said, “But I did see him.  Well, I _ran_ into him.  He was really… weird.”

“I could’ve told you that.  Anyone you’re chasing after has to have some kind of mental deformity.”

Kai lightly scolded, “It’s not like you have the perfect track record..”

Reita continued, all too used to his friend’s occasional comments, “It wasn’t like normal weird.  He knew my last name.”

Uruha paused in ironing, looking vaguely startled, “Really?”

The elder nodded, tipping back in his chair absently as Kai bit his lip in thought.  He thought aloud, “No one seems to know who he is – let alone _see_ him.  Yuu’s the only one who has direct contact with him, but that doesn’t explain why he’d know my last name.  Unless Yuu is creepier than I thought and looked up my admissions file and just randomly told Ruki about it.”

“Well, then you have to do two things.  Confront Yuu and look up Ruki’s file.  Simple.”

Kai shook his head, “No, invasive.  And totally illegal to snoop through the admissions office.”

Uruha shot Kai a sidelong glance, “You weren’t preaching about legality on October 12th…”

The brunet flushed brightly, stammering (and avoiding the accusation, to Reita’s curiosity), “I-It’s still illegal and Reita isn’t going to swoop into admissions at the dead of night with a ski mask on!”

“Who says he has to do _that_?  All he needs to do is approach this cleverly and he can swipe the file right out from under them!”

“And how is he going to do that?”

“Using his sexual prowess of course.”

“Uruha, that’s totally ridiculous.  Like Reita needs to learn from you – ”

“—You know, I think I have some pictures on my hard drive somewhere that Mia might be interested in…”

Kai made a strangled noise, somewhere between a gasp and squeal of fright, “Don’t you fucking – !”

“ _Guys,_ ” Reita had his hands covering his face.  His head was about to explode from this pitiable attempt at a cat fight, “Sorry to interrupt your little soap opera, but are you forgetting I’m a Computer-Sci major?”

Uruha blinked, “Then why the fuck are you taking sociology?”

Reita continued, unruffled, “I can hack into the system.  It’s not like we’re looking for his Social Security Number.  Just his name, hometown and anything else that could link him to knowing _me_.”

Kai hummed with a frown, clearly disapproving, “I still think you should talk to Yuu-san first.  Not everything has to be so scheming and elaborate.”

Already booting up his computer and waiting for his desktop to load, Reita muttered distractedly, “Who says I’m not going to?  But seriously, the guy is ridiculously hard to find – the exact opposite of Ruki who’s just fucking everywhere I go.  It took me a week to find him last time.  How the hell am I going to find him again?”

Despite his small pocket of fame on campus due to his guitar skills, Shiroyama Yuu _was_ a definite hermit.  He didn’t appear too often, but when he did, people took notice.  His aura was at once inviting and guarded – too close and he’d disappear into the crowd of students, never to be found until you least expect it.

However, Uruha didn’t seem to be aware of that discrepancy as he simply stated, “Facebook.” 

Reita and Kai stared at the blond on the floor, who had gone back to dutifully ironing in relative silence, and then to each other.  In a flurry of movement and “move over’s”, both were squished by the screen and furiously typing in the social network site’s address.  Reita growled as Kai took over the mouse, “Why are _you_ so suddenly interested in this, Mr. Legality?”

“Facebook is legal, despite its penchant for stalking and raising creepers in our society.  And why wouldn’t I be interested – the man is practically a deity here and he’s almost never around.  It’s about time to dig up some dirt.”

Uruha poked in, “I’ve taught him well.”

Kai’s fingertips flew across the keyboard:  _Shiroyama Yuu_.

No results.

Reita gaped, “Oh, come on.  _Everyone_ has a facebook.  _Everyone_.”

Kai pressed his thumb against his bottom lip in thought, “Maybe it’s under his stage name?”

A few key taps and mouse clicks later, Reita and Kai stared at the screen, flabbergasted.

Noticing the abrupt silence, Uruha raised a brow and set down his iron on the floor.  Slinking over to Reita’s side of the quaint room, he bent down and stuck his head between the hushed duo.  Blinking, the auburn-haired man slightly tilted his head to the left and rested his chin on Reita’s slumping shoulder, “Over a million results, eh?”

Gaping, Reita suddenly threw his hands in the air, nearly whacking Uruha in the face who pouted and retreated to Kai’s side instead, “What the hell?!  This is ridiculous.  We’re not sifting through 100,000 pages of search results.  No.”

Kai guffawed, “What?  So you’re just going to give up?  Way to be a man, Mr. Macho.”

“Whoa, whoa.  What’s with the sudden hostility?  If you want to play name games, then all you had to do was ask.”

“Guys…”

“Bring it.”

“…Guys.”

“It’s getting brought, don’t you worry.”

“Guys!”

Reita and Kai whipped their heads from glaring at each other to glare at Uruha.  Not one bit affected by the sharp gleam in both of their eyes, the resident cross-dresser of the three merely drawled lazily, “Isn’t Yuu Japanese?”

Reita and Kai kept staring, glares softening to questioning countenances.  Uruha nudged his chin towards the screen and continued, “So…  wouldn’t his name be in kanji instead of katakana?”

Both blond and brunet turned to look at the computer screen proclaiming a million and two search results.  Reita then muttered darkly as he changed his language settings, “Unbelievable.”

Uruha grinned widely, pleased.

With Kai still dumbfounded that he hadn’t been the one to come up with such an answer to their predicament, the bleach haired man lowly said, “Smart enough to figure that out, but not smart enough to set your iron upright before you came over here.”

The smile quickly vanished and Uruha whispered low with horror, “What?”

“Kai, I believe I smell burnt pleats.”

“Motherfuck!”

Uruha quickly vacated the squished space and left the other two to type in the intricate kanji.  And sure enough, there it was.  The poor bastard didn’t even have it set to private, which was ironic since he seemed to really treasure his privacy.  Whatever, his loss and Reita’s gain.  According to the elder’s status, there was a concert being held a town over and “Aoi” would be performing there, “It says it’s tonight.”  Kai read off the name of the place while Uruha began howling that his precious skirt was destroyed.

“Fuck, fuck there has to be a way to fix this – ”

“Well unless I see him in the next two hours, we’re going to that concert.”

Kai typed in the name of the place, Oreganos ( _“Is that Spanish?”_ ), into Google while Reita wrote down the address on his palm.  It seemed to be downtown, a little area that was known for its penchant for deviance of the more _sexual_ kind.  Reita’s cheeks were already flushing as he read the description of the live house that was beginning to seem more and more like a club rather than a regular dive.  It wasn’t like Reita was very in the know about live houses anyways.  Uruha was the one who dragged him to them – promising that he would feel the music this time, get that rush in his bones like no one could ever take anything away from you ever again.

He supposed it made sense in regards to Uruha – _Kouyou_.  After coming out, his parents hadn’t taken it so well.  Reita remembered the fog-ridden night where the warmth stuck to you like molasses, but the cold was still stitched into your breath – and there he was.  Curled up on a park bench, a guitar case tucked to his chest tight. 

And Reita had sat down next to him and whispered, “ _You’re coming home with me._ ”

And when they got there, opening the door slowly so it wouldn’t creak and wake Reita’s mom, climbing the stairs one and a half at a time and Uruha bumping into his back occasionally because the lights were off and _fuck_ he couldn’t see anything but blurs and something was slipping down his cheek –

Reita had opened his bedroom door, tugged him inside and locked it.

_“You’re safe now._ ”

The guitar case fell to the ground with a dull thud on Reita’s carpet and Uruha sucked in a shaky breath.  It was wet and raw and he felt like he was being sliced open and torn apart.  But then he was being held so tight that he was somehow fitting back together between his hands on Reita’s shoulder blades and his forehead against his collar bone. 

Reita had whispered, hushed and hoarse, “ _You just brought your guitar?_ ”

And Uruha shook his head, a sob getting caught in his throat, “ _No.  It’s gone.  My dad broke it.  Just clothes in there._ ”

Uruha never bought another one.

So it made sense that when they would go to these live houses, when Uruha would plead and beg and drag him in – when Uruha closed his eyes as the guitar riffs hit each bone in his ribs – it was like coming home to those well-worn strings that had been ripped apart by unforgiving hands.

“Kai!  You bake – how do you get char marks out of lace?”

Uruha’s panicked voice that was increasingly becoming more desperate and horror ridden pierced Reita’s left eardrum.  Kai seemed to ignore the plea as he read through the description and rules of the club.  His brow furrowed and before Reita could even feel the anxiety of _what?_ in his chest, Kai nervously turned to him.

“It’s… couples only.”

What.  _What?_

“What?”  He was confused.  Wasn’t this club slash live house in the local sexual deviance district?  Why the hell would there be a _couples_ requirement to get in? 

Kai tilted his head thoughtfully as he read through the block of text on the fancy website, “Yeah, seems like it’s almost like a swinger’s hot spot.  Bring someone, mingle, do whatever you want with that person, with another, or all three or more of you.”

Reita sputtered, “That..  That doesn’t even make sense!  Why would Yuu play a show _there_?”

Kai shrugged, obviously not as scarred by the idea as the other was, “Money.  Like anything else.”

Reita huffed, crossing his arms and slumping into his seat, the rocking chair motion making the chair knock  into the wood floor with a sharp crack.  This made things more difficult.  How was he supposed to get in?  It wasn’t like he had a girlfriend and it wasn’t like he was close with any of the female kind to ask them to accompany him for one night.  _Especially_ into a club like _that_.

He didn’t need any slaps to the face, thank you.

And Kai probably wasn’t willing to let him borrow Mia…  But maybe…

Reita stared at Kai pointedly, long enough that the other brunet glanced out of the corner of his eye, still half reading the article.  Reita pouted, a plea echoing in his eyes as he attempted to pull his best _innocent with a tad of desperation_ face.  Kai wasn’t buying it.

“Absolutely not.”

“Kai, come on.  It’s for one night.  It’s not like I’m going to steal her.  Don’t be so caveman about this.”

“You’re not taking my girlfriend to a swinger’s club.”

Reita groaned, throwing his head back and sighing loudly, “Then who the fuck am I supposed to take?  I need to get in contact with Yuu and this damn club is my only in.”

There was pause.  Pauses were never a good thing in Reita’s experience.  Bad news and bad _ideas_ always followed a pause.

“Well, you haven’t asked _everybody_ yet.”

Yup, pauses fucking sucked.  Reita refused to turn around and follow Kai’s hand gesture behind them.  If this wasn’t awkward already – slinking to a swinger’s hideaway and confronting a might as well be stranger about an equally unknown person – it was about to get even more humiliating.  Reita’s brittle pride wouldn’t be able to take it.  Kai smirked at him and shrugged.

He didn’t have much of a choice.

Besides sitting around and waiting for Yuu to turn up on campus and having a discussion then.  But that was the easy and slow way.  That wasn’t Reita’s style.  What kind of life was a dull one?  So…

The bleach haired man slowly, slowly swiveled around in his chair.  He watched as Uruha flapped the pathetic piece of cloth around the room to shake off the charred bits, a permanent wrinkle in his brow.  It was no use – the fabric was stiff as a board and was starting to emit an odor that was almost like the foul scent of hair burning (Reita knew this from all the times he woke up to the younger man making failed attempts to straighten his locks). 

Uruha finally stopped flinging around the skirt and just merely held it out in front of him, gazing upon it with a sad expression.  It was obviously one of his favorites and Reita couldn’t help but feel a slight slice of pity at the soft regret flooding the other’s eyes. 

It took five more seconds for Uruha to tear his eyes away from the dilapidated article of clothing and notice the pair of stares locked onto him.  He raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, “What?”

Kai kicked his chair and Reita forced the words out, face burning, “I… I need a favor.”

Uruha scoffed, “So do I.  You’re buying a new one of these.  You’re the one that made it all wrinkly in the first place.”

Reita decided to ignore that comment and don a serious expression instead, “Come on Uruha.  I really need you on this one.”

Hearing the softness in his friend’s voice and studying the totally-not-kidding visage, Uruha lowered the skirt and gently asked, “What do you need me to do?”

_I can’t believe I’m saying this.  Holy shit, I will never live this down.  It’s going to be written on my damn grave._

“Be my girlfriend.”


	3. Reconnaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a salute at the threshold, Kai bid them a jaunty, “Good luck Aoi-hunting. Don’t get rabies.”

Okay, that came out a little wrong -- if Uruha's wide-eyed stare was anything to judge by.  
  
Reita quickly put his hands up and waved them frantically, “J-Just for the night!” 

But Uruha was still looking at him with watermelon-sized irises, caramel glinting in the dim lighting of their dorm and bowed mouth parted softly in a half gasp.  The skirt was dropped to the floor, the charred fabric landing with a crinkle, and the taller of the two did something Reita had never seen him do before.

He blushed.

Reita almost choked and continued to wave his arms around, “The club Aoi’s playing at is couples-only and – well.  Kai won’t let me borrow Mia and you like to wear girl stuff and you’re – ”

Uruha looked at him then, such a flash of hope in those eyes that Reita almost gasped himself.  He could vaguely remember that Kai was watching the whole scene from beside him, but in that moment of an awkward statement and the cusp of a serious revelation, it was just him and his oldest friend.  All those late nights staying up until midnight's collapse rushed through his mind – Reita talking about this girl or that girl, prattling on about cooties and lipstick and if it really made a difference, and Uruha listening, listening, listening until his eyes grew heavy and his head lolled onto Reita’s shoulder.  He didn’t know why the memory suddenly became so stark and _there_.  Like, if he could look close enough, he could see _Kouyou_ – that meek kid with permanent grass stains on his knees and a bruised lip.  He could see _Uruha_ from that night at Kaoru’s – utterly humiliated with eyeshadow smeared across his cheek and a limp at his side. 

Something said so out of place and that was mostly humorous in hindsight, if looked at sideways with your eyes squinted, shouldn’t have felt so monumental.  It shouldn’t have felt like a precarious cusp at their hearts.  But there they were – as if a brand new confession was taking place against their lips.

And Uruha’s eyes were starting to lower to the ground, the once vivacious and free spirited soul suddenly feeble and unsure – suddenly self conscious as he was inadvertently called out as a ‘second choice’ for an empty cause.

Dammit, and Reita couldn’t just let him stand there and look so _damn sad_ , “And you’re… pretty, so…”

Uruha’s head shot right up, blush even more apparent as it dusted his cheekbones in a bashful rouge, eyes somehow wider than before.  Kai couldn’t seem to figure out how to swallow somewhere to his right, but Reita trudged on despite both stares he was on the receiving end of, “So, you’re coming with me to the club.  And you’re going to wear something nice.  We get in, I talk with Yuu, you have a drink, we leave.”

The auburn haired man slowly overcame his stupor and began to shake his head, “I don’t know, Rei-kun.  That last time was – ”

“ – I won’t let that happen.  You know I won’t.”  Reita immediately cut him off, a sharp edge to his voice – a deep seeded anger that resided in his heart ever since he touched those bruises on Uruha’s thighs after he found him sitting dazed on the floor in one of the many rooms of Kaoru’s house.  The memory still stung and it was obvious that Uruha still wasn’t over it – and for good reason. 

The younger looked down again, picking up the fallen skirt and sitting on the bed.  He turned it over in his hands, whispering, “I know.” 

He lifted his head and smiled. 

Reita didn’t have time to keep pussyfooting around the situation however as he felt Kai nudge his side, indicating that time was indeed ticking.  Clamoring out of his chair, he practically ran over to the closet and threw open the sliding door, “Great!  We leave in an hour and a half.”

_“What!??_ You expect me to look _nice_ in an hour and a half!?”  Uruha catapulted from his bed and dashed towards the closet as well, ripping into it like no tomorrow.

Reita scoffed beneath his shirt rack, “Please, you could wear a parachute made out of tofu and look _too_ nice.”

He was too busy sifting through his meager articles of clothing to notice Uruha pause and glance over at him, a warm light flickering across his face.

It was gone in a split second though as Reita turned his head to look at him – Uruha schooling his face into a more appropriate visage of annoyance and frustration, “So, get ready.”

_Get ready, get ready for this._

_Ripped tights and a cracked headboard as a billion hands were upon his flesh in a split moment of earth crumbling and sky shattering.  He was licking up pieces of clouds and his legs were tangling with their greedy fingertips._

_Are you ready?_

_Sharks were nipping at his ankles – that desperate cry of ‘no’ drowned out by the pulsing music and that curling grin above him shushing him with a teeth-ridden kiss.  It hurt, it hurt but he was still gripping that torso with his legs, stiletto heels knocking together at the back.  Glitter was on his tongue, choking him and his mind – preventing him from screaming as lyrics filled his mouth and Reita’s name was lost beneath his lids as he squeezed his eyes shut._

_“Get ready…”_

Uruha quickly closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, quickly grabbing the items he thought he would need before scurrying off to the bathroom.  He ignored Reita’s quizzical stare and Kai’s half formed question of concern, not opening his eyes until his back was against the bathroom door.  His lungs were stuttering and he couldn’t figure out why his lips suddenly felt so dry.  Uruha scowled.  It had been over two months ago.  He needed to stop _thinking_ about it.

It was over, done, never going to happen again.

Reita promised.

Nodding his head and pretending not to feel his knees wobble, he began to shed his sweatshirt.   
  
  
“Do you think Uruha’s okay?”  Kai nibbled on his lip with confusion.  Reita was in the process of running a studded belt through his jeans’ loops.

The elder sounded distracted, “Yeah.  He’ll be okay once he’s all dolled up.  He gets excited when he looks all pretty like that.”

Kai hummed and reached over to click absently at the club’s website, but countered, “I always thought Uruha looked ‘pretty’ though.  Even Mia thinks so.  And that’s when he’s in regular clothes.”

Picking out a black sweater, Reita pulled it over his head.  His reply was muffled as he stumbled around the room towards where he kept his hair products, “Try telling Uruha that.”  
  
“Maybe you should.”

Reita gasped for breath as he finally got his head through the sweater’s hole.  Oxygen back in his lungs, he reached over to his brush and gel, deciding to wear a faux hawk tonight, “It wouldn’t matter.”

Kai refrained from groaning.  For a pretty smart guy in the area of computer science and HTML, Reita was proving to be a complete dunce in the ‘human’ department.  Even though the brunet had only been friends with the two for a little more than four months, he could already see the deep connection both Reita and Uruha shared.  He had never really come into contact with anything quite like it prior to meeting the dynamic duo of outrageous proportions.  Not many guys Kai knew would be willing to keep such a close friendship to a cross-dressing man their age, let alone a friendship that held as much tenderness as Reita at times exuded for the benefit of the sometimes-broken-doll, Uruha. 

He slung an arm over the desk chair and rolled his eyes at Reita who was concentrating on his task of taming his wild mane of bleached and black locks, “Of course it would.  It’s almost absurd how you don’t realize that Uruha considers you his hero in a way.  You’re his safety, his confidante.  If you told him that he was pretty without all the makeup and all the primping, he would believe you.”

“No,” Reita argued as he twisted his fingers in his hair.  He bent at an uncomfortable angle to catch a glimpse at every angle of his hair in the small mirror that hung off center on the wall, “He wouldn’t.  It’s not a simple matter of words.  Uruha hates words.  All they’ve done to him is hurt him.  Do you know how many times I’ve had to beat up kids for making fun of his lips alone?  Do you even _know_ what his parents said to him, viciously called him, when he told them he was gay?”

Reita stared into Kai’s warm eyes, suddenly looking so much taller, “After hearing so much shit, how can you trust words anymore?”

Kai looked away, almost blushing because no, he didn’t know as much as he thought he did.  But Reita didn’t seem to mind him overstepping his boundaries, flicking pieces of hair to fall onto his forehead in an intricate pattern of disarray.  Kai watched his toes on the carpeted floor, shifting to and fro, properly chastised.  He didn’t understand though why words could be so totally disregarded, even with past experiences.  Weren’t some words always true?  At least, weren’t they true when said by the right people?

Kai didn’t have time to divulge a proper answer since Reita pulled him abruptly out of his stupor, “Okay, done.”

The dimpled brunet knew the phrase meant, _how do I look – don’t lie and don’t get cute on me_.  He looked the other man over.  Dark wash jeans, black sweater that hugged his chest, chain dangling from his pocket, black chunky boots and a leather jacket thrown over his shoulders.  Kai raised an eyebrow, “Are you going to a live house or a Yakuza meeting?”

Reita looked down at himself, wiggling his toes in his boots and touching a pierced earlobe, “What?  I think it has that ‘I’m just here for the music so don’t grope me’ kind of feel to it.”

“No one will want to touch you with that much gel in your hair anyways.”

Reita whipped his head to the door where Uruha stood with a growl, but the guttural sound was cut off just as quickly as it had risen.  The taller man breezed past him and over to his side of the room where he proceeded to dig through his drawer to find that knuckle ring he had his mind set on wearing for tonight.  Reita only gaped, hand subconsciously going to the tips of his blonde locks to finger at the stiff pieces.  But he couldn’t rip his eyes away from his friends’ form, following each movement and deliberate sway of his hips – and he knew Kai had to be seeing this too.

He couldn’t be the only one in the room _seeing_ this. 

“W-What are you wearing?”

Uruha hmm-ed and turned an innocent look towards Reita’s flabbergasted expression – and the shorter man felt like slapping the mock gaze of doe eyes off from the other’s face.  He _knew_ what he was wearing and goddammit he totally did it on purpose! 

Uruha only blinked, “Something nice?”

‘Something nice’ apparently translated into a [dress](http://www.prontostyle.com/product/bcbgmaxazria-lace-bodice-dress-black-p_1846324041) made of black lace and nude tulle, settling at mid-thigh length in the front and to the hinges of his knees in the back.  The skirt was pleated in small sections in a billowing material, the waist cinched with a tight, black belt and a jeweled buckle and showed off Uruha’s sensuous collarbone in all its glory in the absence of straps.  He paraded in silver heels that gave him an extra two inches to his already towering height (at least in comparison to Reita’s abysmal stature) and his auburn hair was lightly curled, bangs straightened to be side swept, almost overflowing into his left eye.  As his oldest friend gazed at him with a risen eyebrow, Reita stared at his choice in makeup:  deep kohl outlining the natural hood in his eyes, a deep navy eyeshadow, a touch of nude blush and a quick sweep of apricot painted across his bowed lips.

It was horrific.

“Holy fuck,” Kai elaborated.

Uruha sniffed, returning to sifting through the mass amount of odds and ends jewelry he  had collected over the years and dumped into a random drawer once he moved into the dorm.  It was an assortment of cocktail rings, costume pieces, glittery little nothings and bold, stark arrangements that he hardly ever wore, but saved just in case.  The ‘just in cases’ of love, pleasure, pain and black nights that he didn’t want to remember.  He ran his deft fingers over each band, “Well, I wasn’t given much time to work with so I guess this’ll have to do.”

Kai stuttered, bewildered, “ ‘Have to do’?  Uruha, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

And Uruha almost looked up from his excavation for that certain ring, almost softened eyes and smiled at Kai because _damn_ that word actually sounded real and sincere this time…  But Reita interrupted before he could even pause to lift his gaze.

“No, no, no!  What are you doing!?  You-you can’t wear this!”

He had always prided himself in being independent, of his own mind, but for some reason Uruha had always sought Reita’s confirmation.  So, it almost pained him to say, “Yes, I can.  What I don’t _have_ to do is go with you to this stupid thing, but for some god forsaken reason, here we are.  Pray tell, why _can’t_ I wear this?”

He shifted his body so he faced directly towards Reita’s dumbfounded expression, hand on his hip, chin raised defiantly and brow furrowed – looking more man than damsel in an ironic twist of perception.  The shorter man fumbled for a reason, any reason, but like hell could he say anything along the lines of ‘ _Well, I think I might just forget you’re my friend – who’s a guy – and just jump you when we’re in that club with those lights turned down so fucking low’_.  So instead, he said the next, instant thing that came to mind.

“Because.”

Kai guffawed.  Reita ignored him and stood steadfast with his straw man argument, cheeks tinted with red.  Uruha smiled, bounding over to the coloring man in a fluid movement, “Aw, Rei-chan!  Are you worried about my virtue?”  He snuggled up close despite the other’s loud protests, grabbing his arm and leaning his cheek against his, “Or are you worried about getting jealous because everyone will be looking at me?”

Uruha was so close, close that Reita almost couldn’t breathe without picking up that delicious, heady scent of his friend’s Bvlagri Thé Vert.  His hair felt so soft and his fingers were tingling just to _touch_ it.  Reita felt a breath fan across his face as Uruha went in closer with a sigh and he snapped.

“Fine!  Fucking fine!  Wear it!  When those fucking guys start putting their hands up your skirt and are given a little surprise, see if I fucking care…!”

Uruha grinned victoriously as Reita roughly ripped himself away and stomped over to the mirror to run his hands vigorously through his hair in attempt to relieve his frustration.

Giving Kai a bright smile and a thumbs up, Uruha then plucked the ring from the drawer and slid it on.  Kai smiled back gently with a little less enthusiasm.  He couldn’t shake the memory of the broken light that entered the other’s irises as Reita insensitively dismissed his outfit.  Even if Uruha didn’t say anything, brushed off the dress and makeup as a last minute throw together, Kai knew that the auburn haired freshman had put thought into it with only Reita’s well-being and security in mind.  Reita had wanted a temporary girlfriend.  And Uruha would be her for him.

He quietly made his way over to Uruha and his primping, Reita preoccupied with typing in the club’s address into his cell phone, and whispered low, “You really do look great, Uruha.”

Uruha lifted a hand to fix his bangs self-consciously, a worried glint to his eyes as he regarded Kai seriously, “Are you sure?  Maybe I went too far.  I know Reita’s insecure as it is and I don’t need to go and mess up everything for him.  I can’t be a screw up tonight, Kai.”

The brunet frowned, chest aching at Uruha’s self-berating remarks, and tried to sound as sincere as he could, “You’ll be the prettiest one there and _that_ will make Reita feel more secure than he’s ever been.  He says things he doesn’t mean, not in the right way.  You’re never a screw up.”

Uruha smirked sardonically, “You’d be surprised.”

Kai didn’t like surprises and therefore wasn’t prepared for the hard clap on his back, “Stop flirting.  We need to go.”

The brunet glared with a light flush to his face, averting his eyes from Uruha’s now mischievous smirk and was about to retort that he was _not_ flirting, you _dumbass_ when the dress clad man beside him cooed, “Oh, Rei-chan my hero!  Kai was being so pervy to me~”

The stab of betrayal was deep; utterly wounded, Kai slapped Uruha’s shoulder which didn’t seem to help out his case at all as Uruha faked a hurt yelp and Reita snatched his offended hand immediately and pulled him close to his hard chest – glaring for all he was worth.

He had never seen a look so black in Reita’s usually warm and calm eyes – and he knew the man wasn’t about to go back on his promise to Uruha.  And he knew, too, that something deeper lurked within the man that held a bit more meaning than just ‘friendship’, whether the macho man was willing to admit it or not.

Reita growled in his face, “Don’t you fucking _ever_ _touch_ him.”

For a split second, he thought Reita was serious – that a fist would come flying or his throat would be torn up and shredded.  But in a second less than instant, Reita and Uruha were cackling, the blond haired man letting him go to clutch at his stomach while Uruha leaned against his side, also in hysterics.

“Fuck Kai, your face!  Shit, my makeup --”

“Dude, that was beautiful.  The perfect portrait of terror.  Muahaha~”

Kai glared heatedly, huffing and hitting both of them, “You fuckers.”

He almost lost it and smiled, but kept up the farce of irritation with a huff of breath and turned on his heel to the door.  With a salute at the threshold he bid them a jaunty, “Good luck with Aoi-hunting.  Don’t get rabies.”

 

Turned out rabies were the least of their worries.

Though when he and Uruha found the street the club resided on, Reita was at once wary of any gigantic, mutant sewer rats sprinting from the back alleys and biting off their heads.  He took to shakily leading the way, refusing Uruha the privilege of stepping out from behind him.  He explained briefly, “I have to protect you.”

His temporary ‘girlfriend’ for the night, Uruha smirked, “You’re doing a great job.  Now stop cutting off the circulation in my hand.  I’m pretty sure my ring is making a permanent star shaped hole in your palm.”

A rustle came from the open mouth of the alleyway they happened to pass by – a minor scuffle breaking out amongst the trash cans and Reita suddenly jerked Uruha in front of him, clinging to his shoulders, “Fuck!  Throw your shoe at it!”

So much for chivalry.  Uruha tugged his friend out from behind him, pretending his heart hadn’t fluttered the slightest bit at the feeling of his warm palms against his bare skin and bones.  With a huff and condescending lilt to his voice, Uruha began to lead the way, “Come on, Romeo.  We’re going to be late for the first set.”

Reita tripped after him, head whipping back and forth to try and make out figures in the shadows that seemed to loom before them from every angle, corner and sliver of space.  He followed Uruha unsteadily, trying to focus on the click of his heels and the way his soft tendrils of hair fell to the nape of his neck – and not the dreadful feeling that was slowly clawing out the inside of his stomach. 

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so guarded and anxious.  It was just a regular club that just happened to be in a gritty district.  It was just Yuu – _Aoi_ – playing the guitar and just a few drinks, conversation and perhaps some discoveries about the illusive ‘Ruki’.  But god help him, Reita couldn’t stop the macabre from spilling over into his mind – something was going to happen.  Not just a rat scurrying past them, him squeaking like a twelve-year-old girl scout, and Uruha snickering at him.  No, something that they wouldn’t be able to recover from, whatever it may be. 

The feeling was creeping up his neck, making his hair stand on end and he was pretty sure Uruha could feel him shiver against his side.  The younger glanced at him as they continued to walk at a brisk pace towards the club, “I won’t mess it up, if that’s what you’re worried about.  No one will think a man’s hanging on your arm, believe me.”

It hurt Reita slightly to think that his oldest friend thought so shallowly of him.  He wanted to reassure Uruha that even if people found out, he wouldn’t care, would never care – but right when he was about to speak, a catcall came from behind them. 

And it was like a switch had gone off in Uruha’s mind because one moment, even in spite of the clothing he wore, he shone a masculine quality to how he held himself (even when teetering in heels), but then in the next instant, he stooped over and clung to Reita’s arm, looking for all the world demure and fragile.

He somehow managed to look _up_ into Reita’s eyes, still latched onto his bicep and curling his body inward.  He lifted an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.  _See?_

Reita knew he must have looked frazzled – the abrupt change in nature that had just occurred before his eyes blindsiding him – but remembered to play his part, glaring over his shoulder.

A taller, broad shouldered man was leering behind them.  He was dressed in mostly black and grays, almost blending into the very same shadows Reita had been eyeing suspiciously.  Reita unconsciously pulled Uruha closer to him, brow furrowing with misgiving.  The man had foreign features – a prominent, straight nose and hazel eyes that the bleach haired man could discern the color of even at such a distance.  They were almost glowing, the smile on the man’s face widening which almost made his irises [glint with silver](http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn2/MidoriTori196/Jrock/Alice%20Nine/Tora/Tora_cross_game.jpg) for a brief instant.  So quick, Reita had to be seeing things.

Convinced the man was emitting a threatening aura, Reita tried bravado, “Fuck off.”

The smile became a smirk as the man lowered his head, looking up from beneath his brown bangs, “You’ve got a dirty mouth.  I’m sure your arm candy doesn’t appreciate it,”  He flicked his piercing gaze over to Uruha who had been oddly still during this confrontation, “Do you, love?”

Reita expected Uruha to counter with a bite and snap – he was familiar with the other’s quick fire tongue from first hand (and painful) experience – and perhaps turning up his nose haughtily, like he didn’t even have the time to regard such a specimen of low, degrading caliber. 

He did _not_ expect Uruha to meekly shake his head.

And he really, really did not expect Uruha to start to try and pull away from his gentle grip.

Reita’s eyes widened, facing Uruha who suddenly wouldn’t meet his eyes.  What the fuck?  “Uruha?”  He whispered under his breath so the stranger wouldn’t hear.

“See?  Now come along, love.  We’ll leave this trash behind and perhaps he’ll learn to mind himself, hm?”

Reita practically snarled at the man who had an arm extended expectedly.  His smile, once so feral and menacing in the shadow of the moon, was small and calculating.  Reita swore those eyes were shifting back and forth between lush hazel and frigid silver.  But he couldn’t be positive as Uruha began to make an honest effort to step away from him.

He tugged him back almost roughly, primal fear racing through his veins and the previous dread in his stomach reaching up towards his throat, “Uruha, stop -- ”

Reita tightened his hold on Uruha’s arm and tried to pull his willowy body behind him.  He expected resistance because even though he loathe to admit it, the younger was stronger than he was and certainly more daunting in frame.  But Uruha nearly fell against him, gasping.

Fuck, fuck…  What was going on?

“You’re a beast.  Manhandling such a delicate beauty.”

Reita snapped his head up from Uruha’s dazed expression to find a deep frown on the man’s face.  He decided he had enough, “Get out of here and mind your own business or I’ll _make_ you, fucker.” 

He felt Uruha touch his arm tentatively, but he paid it no mind.  Instead, he watched an almost amused tilt of the man’s lips come to existence.  He was handsome and somehow otherworldly, a diction falling from his tongue that Reita had never heard before, “Such brutish language.  You’re frightening your charge.”

Indeed he could feel Uruha shake against him, but Reita was shaking himself – trembling even, at the prospect that his intuition had been right in deducing something horrid would take place here. 

A soft voice, so foreign and yet it sprang from those familiar bowed lips, “Please, unhand me.”

Reita looked down to see Uruha’s caramel irises glazed over and regarding him warily – like he had never seen him before in all his life.  Reita blinked, gently touching the man’s shoulder with concern and trying to calm his shaking voice, “Uruha, it’s me.  Snap out of it, now’s not a good time to get amnesia.”

But Uruha continued to gaze unto him with an innocent countenance of fear, struggling against his hold but strangely unable to release himself despite the fact that any other day of the week he would be able to rip himself from Reita’s hands with a yawn. 

It was decidedly colder, fog billowing from Reita’s open mouth and making his spine shiver.  He didn’t know what to do, what this meant.  A stranger was giving them a creepy smile and his friend was under the impression that he was the frightening, unknown man with a villainous motive.  Fuck, all he wanted was to gather more information about Ruki, maybe find out why he knew his last name, maybe get a few tips from Yuu on how to approach him – maybe listen to some good music and shoot back a couple of beers.  Honest, he had nothing but good intentions. 

And now he was in a tangled mess of _this_.

So, Reita did the only thing he could think of.

He embraced Uruha tight, pushing his head into the slope of his neck, covering his soft curls with a touch that was almost tender, and bellowed gutturally, “ _Leave us alone!_ ”

It felt like everything started to collapse in the span of two seconds – the words leaving his mouth, Uruha falling to his knees and the stranger’s eyes widening in a flash of the brightest silver. 

And then there was nothing.  Just an empty street, Uruha crumpled on the ground breathing heavily and Reita standing there as he trembled and shook.  It was still.  No wind.  No muffled sounds of life that always leaked into the city.  Just his rattling bones and Uruha’s staggering lungfuls. 

Reita let out a breath, falling to his knees beside Uruha, hand to his back, “Fuck, mother of god.  What the fuck was that?”

Uruha was silent, dragging his fingertips on the asphalt absently.  The quiet hush that fell around them was starting to unsettle Reita and he reached out to nudge Uruha’s shoulder.

“Kouyou…?”

Uruha slowly lifted a hand to grip at his head, tangling his fingers in those loose ringlets.  Reita leaned in further, alarmed, “Are you okay?”

A soft whisper, “My head hurts and… wow, I think my knees are bleeding.”

Uruha watched the blood soak into the pavement from where his knees had smacked against the ground and Reita hissed, “Jesus.”

He helped the taller man to stand up shakily, stilettos wobbling unreliably and catching the moonlight at odd arrays.  Uruha was still dazed, soft-spoken and seemingly absent from reality.  He only stared down at his knees blankly, tights ripped and skin scraped with crimson tears flowing to his legs.  Reita was breathing too shallowly, looking over his shoulder periodically to gauge whether or not the stranger was attempting to jump him from behind.

He clasped Uruha’s shoulders, trying to look him in the eye, “What the hell was that back there?  Didn’t I tell you to never talk to strangers, dumbass?  And there you were, ready to _leave_ with one.  Fuck, what the hell were you _thinking_?”

Uruha turned to him with glazed eyes and an almost cheerful grin.

“Be with you in a sec’.  Passing out now.”

_Thunk._


End file.
